


happily ever after

by tarinumenesse



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Background Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Flayn, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: At Flayn's wedding, Seteth sits alone in the background. At least, until Manuela appears.
Relationships: Manuela Casagranda/Seteth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	happily ever after

“And how is the brother of the bride?”

Seteth tore his eyes from Flayn, resplendent in her wedding robes, to see Manuela standing near the table where he sat alone. The first wave of the feast had long since ended, and though, many floors below them, the castle’s cooks would be frantically putting the final touches on the evening’s second course, for now most of the king’s guests were dancing. Seteth wondered why Manuela didn’t number among the twirling couples for only a moment before he noticed the wine bottle in her right hand and the pair of glasses, hanging by their stems between the fingers of her left.

With a scoff, he turned back to Flayn and that strange mixture of pride and sadness he felt while watching her stare adoringly up at Dimitri. The silver circlet on her green curls reminded him that his silly, impulsive, sweet daughter was now a queen.

“I am tolerable,” Seteth said in response to Manuela’s question as she dropped onto the chair beside him.

“Oh come on,” Manuela whined immediately. She placed the wine bottle and glasses down. “Allow me to recite a few truths to you.”

Seteth leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as she popped the cork from the wine bottle with practised ease. She took one of the glasses in hand, holding it delicately as she filled it.

“First of all, she said, raising an eyebrow, “the war is over. It has been for six years.”

“I am well aware of that,” Seteth replied as he accepted the glass.

“Is that so,” Manuela murmured. “One would never believe it from the dour expression permanently etched on your face.”

Seteth hid his smile by sampling the wine. It was better than he’d expected, although he shouldn’t be surprised. It was the king’s wedding.

“Secondly,” Manuela continued, “your students have done you credit. One the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, the other the kindest and most generous king to ever sit on Faerghus’s throne.”

“I can hardly claim credit for that. There are many others who have had a far greater influence on them than I, yourself included.”

Manuela waved away the compliment and picked up the second glass.

“In that case, allow me to present truth number three: today you became the brother of the king.”

Seteth bit the inside of his cheek. Apart from the way Manuela’s statement focussed in on his mixed feelings about the day, the way she carefully pronounced “brother” —while crossing one leg over the other and lounging back in her chair, —was clearly intended to highlight her suspicions of his continuing claim to be Flayn’s brother. He had grown familiar enough with her games over the years to recognise when she was fishing for information.

He waved a hand through the air, imitating her nonchalance.

“That means nothing,” he said.

“I know at least a dozen people who would argue the exact opposite.” Manuela took a sip of wine, eying the newly married couple. “The majority of the nobles I knew in Enbarr considered joining the emperor’s family to be the greatest accomplishment to which one could aspire.”

“And you?”

Manuela snorted and met his gaze. “Oh, I think you know what I’m most interested in.”

A delighted squeal prevented Seteth from responding. Dimitri had lifted Flayn from the ground and was spinning her, much to the amusement of the wedding guests. The groom laughed as he slowed to a stop. But he didn’t put Flayn down; instead, he held her aloft as he stared lovingly into her eyes, as though they were the only two people in the room. Flayn grabbed the collar of his robes and tugged him towards her for a kiss. The crowd cheered. Seteth looked down at his wine.

“I think I will retire,” he said, swirling the deep red liquid. “Find a quiet spot and build a small house. Somewhere near a river.”

“My, my, what a grim picture.”

Seteth glanced up at Manuela.

“If I didn’t know better,” she said with a smirk, “I would think I was speaking to a man near his deathbed instead of one in the prime of his life.”

That made Seteth laugh. It spoke to other conversations they had shared, over a drink in the Garreg Mach dining hall, or warmed by the fire in the infirmary, or while rushing between classrooms while the Academy was on semester. The topic always amused Seteth, who knew someone as young as Manuela could not imagine the weight of the years pressing down on him. Although, she had endured just as many disappointments and tragedies in her short existence. Perhaps she could understand something of the constant dread he felt.

Manuela offered a self-satisfied smile as she put her glass down and leaned towards him, arms crossed over her knee.

“I thought you enjoyed your work at the church,” she said. “Why the sudden decision to give it up?”

“It isn’t sudden,” Seteth replied. “I’ve been considering it for some time. My vanity does not extend to the belief that I am indispensable to the church’s operations. ”

“I think that Byleth would disagree.”

“With all due respect, Her Grace does not have a say in the matter.”

Manuela clicked her tongue. “Heavens, Seteth, if I didn’t know you better I would have taken you for a protestant.”

Seteth chuckled as he indulged in another mouthful of wine. He liked to think that he was learning how to appreciate the beverage again, under Manuela’s instruction. This one was rather fruity, something he knew she enjoyed. And that made it difficult not to enjoy it too.

“Does Flayn’s marriage really upset you so much that you would give up everything else?”

The taste turned sour. Seteth lowered his glass slowly, then put it aside altogether.

“No,” he said, before pausing to examine his feelings, to ensure his answer was honest. He was relieved to discover no trace of guilt within.

“I am not upset,” he continued, meeting Manuela’s gaze. “I am very happy for Flayn. I am glad she has found love. I am proud of the woman she has become. And I believe…I know her mother would be proud too.”

“She is a credit to you both, and will manage quite well in her new circumstances,” Manuela said. She leaned back in her chair again, retreating out of Seteth’s space. “But if you secret yourself away to some strange place in the countryside, alone, I think you will find yourself very, very lonely without her.”

“I need not be alone. I could join Rhea.”

Manuela tittered. “Seteth, you know I think highly of Rhea, but our former archbishop is not the type of company I was thinking of.”

“Oh?” Seteth shifted in his chair. “Then who?”

“Well now.” Manuela lifted her hand to her chin, exaggerating a pose of deliberation. “Your sister has found herself a husband and seems quite happy. Have you given no thought to the suggestion I made all that time ago, when we were finally able to envisage the end of the war?”

Seteth raised an eyebrow. “I cannot recall the conversation to which you refer.”

Manuela tapped him lightly on the arm. “I know your memory is not that bad.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

Manuela laughed and dropped her head against his shoulder, looking out at the dancing couples.

“Look at Flayn, Seteth,” she said.

Seteth obeyed, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“You could be that happy,” Manuela said. “Don’t you want to be that happy?”

A stab of longing pierced Seteth’s heart. For all his jests, Manuela was right: his memory was not bad. In fact, it was clearer than a thousand-year life should allow. He could still see her clearly. She had smiled when he took her hand, given all the promise of forever with her gaze, trembled at his touch. Laughed at his terrible jokes, his stupid mistakes, his self-righteousness all alike and kissed him afterwards, before whispering the immortal words that still echoed in his ears.

“Where is your daughter?” Manuela whispered. “I thought she would be here, at her aunt’s wedding.”

Suddenly exhausted with the burden of pretending, of nearly thirty years of ignoring the whispers in his head, of denying the existence of his wife, his child, his family, Seteth exhaled and said, “She’s here.”

Manuela shot upright. “Where?”

Seteth nodded in Flayn’s direction. Manuela looked from him to her, then back again. Her eyes narrowed.

“I knew it,” she hissed.

He blinked. “Then why did you seem so surprised just now?”

“Because I have been trying to get you to admit it ever since she was kidnapped by the Death Knight.” Manuela swept up her wine glass and emptied it in one gulp, before slamming it back on the table. “It was you admitting it that surprised me, not your daughter’s identity.”

“You have truly kept it secret since then?” Seteth asked, feeling a heaviness lift from his shoulders as he watched her feigned disgust.

“I needed to have at least one weapon to use against you,” she spat.

“Yet you never deployed it.”

Manuela shook her head with a self-deprecating snort. “No. Turns out I didn’t have the guts. Frankly, you are terrifying. I much prefer to let you surrender the truth at your will.”

She lifted a hand, and Seteth glanced across the room to see Flayn waving at them enthusiastically, and gesturing for him to join them. Dimitri, at her side, met Seteth’s eyes and offered a small bow. It made him wonder if Flayn had also surrendered the truth. He hoped so. He didn’t want her to start her marriage with a lie.

“Terrifying, then?” Seteth said to Manuela as he lifted a hand to return their greeting.

“Even Byleth thinks so,” Manuela exclaimed. “She said she’d rather face a divine beast than you.”

Seteth choked on a laugh. Manuela gasped and lifted a hand to her mouth. She twisted on her seat to face him, eyes wide.

“You did not hear that from me!” she cried, thrusting a finger towards him. “If you utter a single word to Byleth, I’ll…”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Manuela,” he said, standing.

Manuela jumped to her feet. “I swear, Seteth, if you…”

She trailed off as Seteth held out his hand. She stared at it, then looked up at his face, her lips in a thin line.

“We are the only ones not dancing,” he explained.

“You’re a man of the church,” Manuela shot back. “And you’re _Seteth_. You don’t dance.’

Seteth smiled. “May I remind you of my imminent retirement?”

Manuela frowned at him, still suspicious. But she put her hand in his.

“Don’t think this means you’ve won,” she said. “Because it doesn’t.”

“Of course not. We shall resume at a time when we are not being summoned by the king and queen of Faerghus. What say you?”

Manuela grinned, a note of evil in the expression, and looped her arm through Seteth’s. “How about at that tavern just outside the castle district?” she suggested as they set out across the room. “And tonight, I swear I will be the one carrying _you_ home. Or rather, a few of the strapping young men at the tavern will be.”

“I think not,” Seteth replied.

“Oh?”

“I do not think,” Seteth said, lowering his voice to a whisper as they drew close to Flayn and Dimitri, “that I will find it in myself to tolerate you flirting with other men tonight.”

Manuela spluttered, causing Seteth to smile as he freed himself from her hold and moved to embrace his daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a brain worm and then it was a drabble and now it's a fic. Whoops.
> 
> Thanks to paperpenpal for looking over this before posting!
> 
> You can find me on twitter, [here](https://twitter.com/RuneTari).


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